


My love is infinite (I’m giving it)

by colliquial_rain



Category: Euphoria (TV 2019)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gay Panic, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-19 06:27:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20652686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colliquial_rain/pseuds/colliquial_rain
Summary: Lexi is really really gay and maybe it’s just the teenage hormones talking, or whatever, but Rue is so fucking beautiful.alternatively;Jules is gone, Rue doesn’t know how to cope and Lexi is set on helping her, helping them, and maybe they fall in love,  and maybe it will all work out right in the end.





	My love is infinite (I’m giving it)

Just as it is nearing twelve-thirty in the morning, with the moon casting an iridescent glow on Lexi’s (and, by extension, Cassie’s bedroom) a series of repetitive taps at her window draw out the first licks of sleep in her veins. Lexi habitually presses her face into her pillow and lets out an unceremonious groan. When that doesn’t cease the perpetual rapping on the glass, she produces a long sigh for good measure, and blinks through her lashes at her sisters bed. Empty. Cassie must’ve still been at the winter formal drinking her sorrows away with gatorade and everclear. Giving in, Lexi rolls three quarters of the way to the edge of her mattress, planting her feet firmly on the floor.

It takes her a moment to adjust her head to the rush of sitting up too quickly, and her sight to the low-burn of the moon and the orange lampshade by Cassie’s side of the bedroom. When she does, she flickers her gaze to the window, and subsequently feels her heart catch in her throat.

It’s Rue, Rue fucking Bennett, the one person Lexi thought would never spare her the time of day, was kneeling on her window-ledge looking absolutely wrecked. Oddly enough, she is still clad in her winter formal attire, the blazer Jules had let her borrow too big on her arms and pinching at her sides in weird, untranslatable angles. Remains of glitter (blue, and grey and purple, Lexi recalls, because she had stared at Rue for the better half of that night) curls around her nose and cheeks and follows the natural slopes and lines of her face. Reflexively, she frowns, and Rue squeezes her eyes shut momentarily like she’s trying to nurse a headache.

Painfully, Lexi’s heart stirs in her chest.

(She hates that even after everything that’s happened, with rehab, and Jules, and Rue being mean to her, and Rue using her, and Rue ignoring her and Lexi consequently getting her feelings hurt, that Lexi still can’t turn Rue away.)

Succeeding after only a dozen tries, Lexi eventually unfolds the hatchet for the window and steps aside to create room. It’s a wordless invitation to be let in, so Rue’s shoulders pierce through the open space, and the rest of her comically long limbs follow. Along the way down, Rue’s legs swing her alarm clock off her bedside table absentmindedly, and it falls to the ground with a reverberant thud. Though the latter doesn’t really seem to care for it. No - she is too concerned for her best-friend who seems to tremble involuntarily underneath her view - the clock could wait its turn. (Collateral damage, she deduces to no one in particular.)

“Rue?” questions Lexi, carefully.

(Because Lexi knows Rue well. Of course she does - they had grown up together and had been exceptionally close, once upon a time, after all. Lexi knows when Rue needs to be handled attentively, with care. When she is fragile. When she requires something stable and secure. Fixating on small phrases and short sentences made Rue feel better. Too many words, Lexi reminds herself, will cause her brain to short-circuit when she’s like this. Lexi is so glad she took those Anxiety and well-being classes back in may, just in case Rue ever decided she needed her.)

Skilfully, Rue tip-toes around her gaze and swallows. Hard.

“Uh... hi, Lex.” Rue manages, her bottom lip quivering with each syllable. Out of habit, Rue bites her mouth to stop the erratic movement of it. Lexi frowns.

It hurts her to see Rue hurt.

For the first time that night (because, despite the fact that Rue and Lexi shared a table, Rue’s eyes were fixated solely on Jules and nothing else), Rue spares her a tiny smile - but it flashes uncomfortably quick and fails to meet her eyes. A seed of recognition sews itself in Lexi’s mind at the hollow gesture. Rue is distraught, and Rue has had a ton of experience hiding it. But Lexi knows Rue, and there are always cracks spidering across her facade. The tell-tale signs are subtle, but Lexi discerns them one by one. They are as follows:

1\. The deep-set crease of her eyebrows, that joins together at the seams and leaves elusive lines across her forehead.

2\. A plethora of indents on the pads of her fingers where she had, undoubtedly, chewed her nails until there was no nail left to chew. (Lexi might’ve missed that one had it not been for the translucent-blue nail polish Jules had applied to them, that was now practically gone.)

3\. And how she ritually swabs her tongue across the ridges of her teeth - then her cheeks, then lips - as her OCD warrants of her, and then repeats cycle.

So, as far as Lexi’s concerned that’s enough basic evidence to convict Rue of her crimes. Truthfully, Lexi knows Rue better than Rue knows herself, which is sad because it’s not mutual. But Lexi isn’t mad. Lexi’s never mad at Rue. Rue could hurt her a million times over and Lexi would never even consider it, she thinks solemnly.

Honestly, Lexi despises her feelings. She doesn’t really know a teenager that doesn’t. But it’s so hard being in love with Rue, so painful because she doesn’t want her, and Lexi is convinced that Rue is all she’ll ever want. Unfortunately for her, Lexi can’t say no, and Rue will never stop asking. It’s a vicious cycle that Lexi will never even try to escape from.

It takes all of her energy not to spill her heart out of her mouth. Instead, she contemplates each vowel and consonant carefully, before she settles on something reasonably tangible.

“Are you okay?” The question feels weighted on her tongue, because she’s scared to know the answer. It feels like it’s been a millennia since Lexi has seen her like this, because Rue’s been doing so well these past few months. But Notably, the most recent event was three months or so ago when Rue had come home from rehab two days prior and was asking Lexi to piss in a bottle so she could beat a drug test. It had crushed all hope somersaulting in her stomach that Rue wanted to rekindle their friendship and had reaffirmed her suspicions: Lexi was only a quick fix to Rue’s problems. A backup to crash on when there was nothing left.

Shrugging off the existential crisis, Lexi tries to focus on the erratic rise and fall of Rue’s chest. Attentively, she scavenges her face for any details she has somehow missed. Rue gives her what she’s looking for, in the form of the betraying glisten of unshed tears at the tips of her lashes.

“I - I, couldn’t, uh.” The explanation is killed by the crescendo of sobs that pushes past her lips.

Immediately, Lexi deciphers this as the beginning of one of Rue’s infamous panic attacks. It’s the way she fights for air like the world refuses her oxygen that confirms Lexi’s suspicions. Rue looks like she’s going to combust. Like every fibre of her being has been set alight with a surge of electricity, because Rue looks ready to jump out of her skin. The bones in her body all shift about each other in an intangible, slow waltz, and when she lurches forward and curls her fingers around her chest like she’s winded, Lexi springs towards her and guides her further into the bedroom.

“It’s okay,” quietly, she whispers reassurance into existence. “you’re safe now.” Her palms rub circles onto the blades of her shoulders. Rue likes touches, she likes pressure on her back and her arms because it makes her feel grounded. She slumps down into the mattress and decides she doesn’t like the angle of it, so it takes her a few twists and turns to get accustomed. Patience is virtue. (Anxiety and Well-being’s mantra repeats itself in her head as she kneels down in front of Rue and carries the patterns to her knees with her thumbs.)

After a few minutes of laboured breaths (and a string of incoherent phrases), Rue says, “I’m dying.” Like it’s final.

So Lexi says, “No you’re not.” Particularly firmly, because she has had so many nightmares where Rue has overdosed and gone to the hospital and _not come back_, that it hits home. It’s a terrible, familiar feeling. But Rue won’t understand right now so she adds, “I promise. It’s just a panic attack.” Trying her best not to let her voice sound as scared as she feels. (Lexi is only half certain she succeeds.)

“No, I- I’m _pathetic_.”

“Just breathe Rue. It’ll be over soon. You are not pathetic.”

“. I couldn’t - _Lex, I couldn’t even do it for her, I_-.”

Rue takes a fistful of her hair and twirls it. A moment passes by before she decides to break the quiet.

Lexi doesn’t pry for answers like most people would - she knows whatever has happened has something to do with Jules, but she won’t ask. Rue appreciates that. Lexi knows that if she tempts too many questions, Rue will snap and bare her teeth and take a couple of swipes to feel safe. She doesn’t want to make Rue feel like a caged animal.

Like she’s trapped.

(Besides, Rue knows she deserves an answer eventually. It’s only fair. After everything she’s put her through.)

Rue lets her head fall back into her palms.

Time passes slower like this. Lexi doesn’t stop the circular movements on Rue’s knees. It makes Rue feel safe - Lexi wants Rue to feel safe. She gives Rue her full, undivided attention, because that’s what she deserves. 

It takes a while, but Rue falls into the rhythm of slow breaths, synched up to the constant tap of Lexi’s thumb drumming on her skin and her own steady heartbeat. It’s good. Rue doesn’t necessarily feel better, but the world stops spinning because Lexi tells it to. And she thinks, briefly, that Lexi always makes things a little better when Rue wasn’t constantly fighting her and everyone else who tried to give her peace of mind.

So in the end, the room settles into an incomprehensible silence. For a moment, Lexi thinks Rue has fallen asleep, because she is exceptionally still - and her breathing has somewhat stabilised. But just as Lexi’s about to get up, to call someone (Cassie? Gia? Ms. Bennett?) Rue stirs.

“I’m not leaving.” Lexi informs.

“Thank you.”

At that exchange, Rue relaxes into the headboard of the bed and Lexi joins her from the floor. They sit joined by the thighs for a while, and Rue occasionally receives a comforting squeeze on her knee from Lexi sporadically throughout it. Rue puts her head against Lexi’s shoulder comfortably.

“I know you aren’t okay right now. And it’s okay, you know, that you aren’t okay. Nobody expects you to be, like, great all the time. I just - I hope you know when you feel like you want to talk about it, I’ll listen.” 

Rue sighs, and puts a hand on Lexi’s leg. It’s Thank you. It’s I needed this.

Then, when Rue flutters her eyes open five minutes later, and Lexi finally looks back into them , there is warmth. There is something other than grey dullness. Lexi counts the flecks of gold in Rue’s eyes and fills the silence with a hum.

And Lexi decides right then and there that Rue will probably be the end of her existence (translated: Rue Bennett will _absolutely_ be the reason she is carried out in a casket). Being so close to her makes her heart stick to her ribcage indefinitely. She likes to think that Rue flocked to her because Lexi is like a sanctuary for her, makes her feel safer than anyone else can - but Lexi is not stupid; she knows better. From past experiences, she has come to the dire realisation that Lexi is only good for Rue for three selective situations:

A) To be her scapegoat. Rue likes to yell but she doesn’t like being yelled _at_, and she’s learned that Lexi will put up with her bullshit no matter how hurt she gets. Like on the day of that pointless drama exercise. Lexi had no other intentions other than making sure Rue was okay, but Rue screamed at her and Lexi barely fought back. 

B) To help her cover up her tracks . Lexi hates the fact but she will probably help Rue drag Nate Jacobs body across town and dump him in the nearest river, no questions asked if Rue wanted her to. (And Rue knows it.)

Or

C) Be a placeholder for Jules. Something to keep her away from the unnecessary highs if Jules, for some reason, was unavailable.

And since Rue is not yelling, or asking her to piss in a bottle or lick some enzyme detecting paper or whatever, Lexi can only assume it’s for option C) stand in for Jules. Something about that makes her heart sink. Objectively, Rue has done the absolute best thing in this situation. Coming to her instead of running to drugs was the best solution, but she cannot prevent this deep rooted remorse that fills her up to the brim. Lexi is second best - and it’s been good enough for her these past few weeks. But that doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

Her self-evisceration dies inside her mind when Rue opens her mouth to speak, however.

“I’m a mess.” Rue declares, her fingers teetering on the hem of her blazer. A small (but still detectable) laugh shakes her shoulders. It’s genuine, if not still filled with a bit of residual sadness. Lexi pinches the corners of her lips into a half-smile for Rue’s sake.

“You‘re not.” Lexi tries.

“Lex.”

“Okay. Fine. You’re a mess.”

This time, Rue laughs properly and Lexi thinks it’s like, 85% sincere. It’s not the way Jules makes her laugh, Lexi thinks selfishly, but it’s something.

  
(She’ll take what she can get.)

They leave it at that. Rue doesn’t really have much to say and Lexi is trying her hardest to not cause a tremor in Rue’s (only slightly) superficial contentment. Lexi isn’t sure how long she sits there, listening to Rue’s heartbeat, twisting her fingers together. The serene atmosphere, along with the close proximity of Rue’s body, is making it increasingly difficult for Lexi to remain still.

Lexi worries that she’ll burst out of her skin when Rue speaks up. “I’m sorry. About, earlier. At the formal, I mean. I shouldn’t have dipped.” ‘With Jules’ does not make it into the conversation.

She shrugs it off. “You don’t have to apologise. I mean, it wasn’t anything to stay for.” (Alas. That didn’t mean Lexi didn’t want her to stay.)

“No. I guess it wasn’t. But the dancing was fun.”

Subconsciously, Lexi combs her fingers through her hair, humming with uncertainty. She wouldn’t have known. Admittedly, Lexi had spent the better half of that night pining after Rue, and when she had left, she spent the rest of it aimlessly looking for her. “I wouldn’t know. I didn’t really get the chance to.”

“Oh.”

Fleetingly, a frown adorns Rue’s lips , and for a moment, Lexi is hopeful. But that’s all she says. Lexi isn’t sure what she was wishing for. Rue does not hold the same sort of love for her as she does for Jules. She will not ask her to spontaneously dance without music underneath the slow-burn of the moonlight, because that’s not what friends do.

Lexi knows if she keeps going on like this, it will only cause more strain.

“It’s getting late. I should probably get home.” Rue states a matter-o-fact, after glancing at the small pink clock that brazenly showcases one forty-five in sparkly blue letters. Her body stretches upwards, something akin to a feline lazing in the sun, and Lexi feels the crackles of prior electricity running down her spine. Rue doesn’t really want to go, but she feels like she’s overstayed her welcome. Lexi’s room is warm, and comfortable, and more importantly, drug free.

“You can stay for tonight. If you want.” Lexi offers, and Rue ponders if she’s a telepath.

“Okay.” Rue accepts.

“Okay.” Lexi confirms.

It’s nice. Lexi feels warm; giddy, even, because it’s been such a long time since Rue and her have shared space together like this. She smiles, and Rue smiles back.

It’s nice.

Wordlessly, Rue unlaces her converse and tucks them neatly underneath Lexi’s bed. When she looks up, Lexi is digging diligently around in this medium-sized pink chest at the foot of her bed. It’s a comical sight to behold. She pokes her head up every once and a while and says, “I think, this will fit you.” Before going back on her word and doing it all over again. It’s sweet. Rue thinks it makes her look like a meerkat, though. Listless, she supposes she’ll add Timone to the plethora of things that Rue calls Lexi that isn’t Lexi. 

It takes Rue a moment to compute it, but she realises every article of clothing Lexi pulls out for her has belonged to her at some point. “You kept my clothes?” She asks in a teasing tone, as Lexi waves an Incredible Hulk shirt in her face and tries to think if it will drape down Rue’s body even somewhat comfortably. 

Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, Lexi’s like “of course I did.” Then, at Rue’s stunned silence, she adds quietly, “In case, you know. You ever, like, came back and wanted something to rest in.”

Oh.

And all Rue can think now is what the fuck is wrong with her? Rue’s decidedly a terrible friend. She treats Lexi like shit all the time and Lexi is only kind to her, and helps her through panic attacks and rubs patterns on her knees and makes the world stop spinning and keeps her clothes incase she decides to stop being an asshole. Rue wishes she could restart. Lexi doesn’t deserve this. Lexi deserves the best version of Rue, who is still thirteen years old and has never touched drugs in her life, and laughs at her dorky jokes and compliments her on her awkward dance moves and comforts her when her parents fight and-

“I’m so sorry Lexi.” Rue says, and Lexi wants to believe that she means it. Even though Lexi wont be angry if she doesn’t. She’s used to it by now; on a good day the probability of Rue being genuine is 50/50 at this point. It hurts. But things with Rue often do. Rue could be mean, Rue could be selfish, but Lexi always looked for that little slither of hope that came with total sobriety. 

Since Rue is clean (thank god) and she can not smell any gatorade and everclear on her breath, Lexi decides that this time, Rue was at least trying to be sincere. 

Pushing a lock of hair out of her face, Lexi says, “You don’t have to be sorry at all.” She swats a hand in front of her face to dismiss all of Rue’s fears. In reality, Lexi is crushed every time Rue pushes her away with anger or fear because Lexi will keep coming back even if she doesn’t ask her to, but she swallows that on her tongue before continuing, “It’s okay Rue. These last few years have been tough. It’s easy to act like you don’t care when you feel like you don’t have control on anything else. You’re getting better; you’re _trying_.” Lexi detests the fact that she can’t be anything less than kind and supportive when it comes to her. It’s even worse that Lexi doesn’t even think about being anything else. 

Shamefully, Rue looks down at her feet. “You’re too nice to me, you know?” Lexi does know. She loves her, so Lexi will be nice to her until the world comes to an end.

Lexi sighs. She thinks the world has been particularly unkind to Rue, and that it’s obscenely unfair how someone so young is loosing themselves to an addiction so severe. She thinks it’s so, _so_ unfair that Lexi fell in love with said girl. She thinks it’s just blatantly cruel that Lexi has to be brave and pretend she doesn’t have feelings too, just in case she somehow hurts Rue in the process. She never wants to hurt Rue. She never wants to be the reason that Rue runs away to her best-friends window-sill, tearing at the seams. 

Lexi doesn’t realise she’s not paying attention until a shadow overcasts her. She looks up to meet Rue’s gaze, and is surprised to feel her weight pulled up and tipped forward into a strange sort of hug.

Rue pretty much smothers Lexi with her height, long limbs wrapped peculiarly around the curves of her waist. It was sweet torture.Thankfully Rue’s palm only presses Lexi’s forehead into the side of her lithe form, (because god knows how Lexi would have reacted if it had been her chest) under her ribcage, and the side of her face rests on the crown of golden brown fibres that makes up Lexi’s hair. It’s an awkward, uncertain type of hug, but Lexi generally melts into it. Methodically, Rue drags the pads of her fingers up and down her spine - the only real comfort Rue knows how to give. It’s supposed to be soothing, but it sparks Lexi’s attention and makes her bones tense with every touch. Suddenly, she’s very aware of every smell, every spectre of dust, every sound. 

“... I’m sorry Lex.” Rue mutters again, squeezing her shoulders lightly. She sways them side to side, but the movement paired with the feeling of Rue’s skin on hers makes Lexi feel more sea-sick than anything. Still, Lexi tries to cherish this moment; but it’s seemingly over as soon as it starts.

Finally letting go, she bends down and collects the first sweat pant, t-shirt combo, she spots and really tries to smile. “These’ll do.” She thanks Lexi with a curl of her mouth and begins shrugging off her jacket. In a ( totally gay™️) panic, Lexi spins around and pretends to sort through the collection on her bookshelf.

Since Lexi has known her, Rue has never been afraid to change in front of Lexi. Lexi has always assumed that it meant that Rue saw her so platonically, that she didn’t need to be. She doesn’t know whether to be deeply disappointed to be friend-zoned, or especially happy to know that Lexi never has, and never will, make Rue feel uncomfortable. 

(Meanwhile, her gay panic slowly rumbles into a cohesive thunderstorm.)

Fortunately for her, Rue realises Lexi’s internal plight (well. Rue notices that Lexi hops from foot to foot and looks particularly uncomfortable as Rue starts undressing.) and she raises her eyebrows in her direction. She pops the first button off of her shirt-dress combo, and watches quizzically at the way Lexi’s shoulders rise and fall with a shaken breath accompanying them. (What? She can’t help it. Lexi hasn’t watched Rue change clothes since they were thirteen. There have been some developments in Lexi’s non-heteronormative brain (read: Lexi’s really hormonal and very gay) and Rue has been the object of her pining for at least four years. It’s really not a good mix.) 

“Hey Lex.” Rue tries woefully to be nonchalant, and she’s doing pretty well until Lexi stutters out a response. “I’m going to go finish up in the bathroom. Don’t wait up for me.”

Rue floats away before she causes Lexi any more grief. She silently thanks her. 

Lexi climbs into bed her head still spinning from the feeling of Rue’s long fingers on her back. She finds it particularly difficult to find a side she’s comfortable on, because suddenly the mattress feels too small for the both of them, and she panics. See, Lexi is five foot three, and fits relatively easily underneath the comfort of her faded pink duvet. If she stretches out enough, her feet will graze the wooden board of it, and might teeter of the edge. But Rue is five foot ten inches, with impossibly long limbs and a terrible fidgeting problem, which means space will be particularly sparse. 

The universe must think this is all some cruel joke. (This is seriously not good for Lexi’s Rue Bennett Problem.)

Sighing, she shoves her face into her pillow and tries to take Rue’s prior advice to fall asleep before Rue comes back, but inevitably fails. She counts five, ten, fifteen speckles of lint residing on the the surfaces of them before Rue returns and skilfully shuffles into the empty space beside her. Lexi briefly wonders if Rue is used to sleeping with other people in her bed, because she bends around Lexi and fixes her body in the groves she doesn’t inhabit.

”Night Rue.” She murmurs, and Rue hums in response.

The tips of their fingers graze each other, and Rue catches Lexi’s gaze for a moment. Painfully unaware of how it affects Lexi, Rue reaches out her thumb and drags it behind her ear, successfully tucking a strand of her hair back in place with the gesture . Lexi’s heart skips in her chest and she’s really, really glad Rue’s closing her eyes when her blush envelops her face. There is seven centimetres (five if she was being _precise_) of space keeping them separate but Lexi has no idea what she’ll do if she runs the side of her leg on Rue’s, or somehow reaches out in the middle of the night and touches her, but Lexi (despite the unpredictable thump of blood through her veins) feels good. Happy, perhaps. And she hopes, very silently, that Rue feels a little better too. (She does, if just by a fraction.)

As the cosmos would have it, Lexi ends up having her eyes trained on the slope and curve of her best-friends face, too caught up in watching the partition of Rue’s lips and the air that passes through them to settle down peacefully. She can’t tell if Rue is asleep, or just exceptionally good at pretending to be still. Either way, Lexi supposes Rue looks actually peaceful. It’s not the way Lexi ever imagined the scenario of Rue and her in bed together , and it certainly didn’t happen the way she had expected it to, but honestly, Lexi isn’t really complaining.

She finds sleep in her veins soon after. Lexi isn’t sure if the proximity, or the warmth from Rue’s body, or the easy, weightless feeling from being half asleep makes her do it, but Lexi mutters, “I missed you.” Into the darkness. 

Lethargically, an octave lower than usual, Rue says, “Me too.”

(Lexi cannot stop the faint smile that pinches at her cheeks.)

That smile does not leave her until the first few rays of the sun colours the skin of her eyelids the next morning.


End file.
